Posted on: April 10, 2014
Leave: verb 1. go away from. 2. allow to remain.
It’s interesting that the two definitions of leave are opposites. Even more interesting as I think about where I am in my Jewish life. On one hand things will remain and on the other I am going away from parts.
For almost three years I’ve worked in Jewish non-profit. A choice I made soon after I converted to Judaism. I knew that the community that I converted in, while absolutely lovely, wasn’t my community. It was too far away for starters and as it turns out, I’m really not a Reform Jew, I’m a Conservative Jew. This realization took some time and I wanted to really live out my new religious values so I looked for a job in the world of Jewish non-profit.
It took a long time, much longer than I anticipated. I was jobless and on SNAP benefits and unemployment insurance before being offered a temporary position at a large Jewish non-profit. It was there that I got my feet wet, met an amazing group of inspirational women (yes, all women). That job served as a stepping stone for the job I’ve had for the past two years at a mid-sized Jewish non-profit. Yet, because of budget woes I, once again, find myself facing unemployment and I had a choice to make. To stay in the Jewish non-profit world or to leave it.
There are many things that I’ve gleaned from the world of Jewish non-profit; an appreciation for hard work, the ability to make amazing things happen with small budgets, amazing friends I hope to keep for my life, and a deeper appreciation for Judaism. In my current positions we’d have discussions as varied as whether or not placenta is kosher (it is according the the rabbis in our office) and whether or not women should don tefillin. Speakers have come to discuss the true nature of original Zionism (turns out I’m an original Zionist) and how non-profits can use social media to impact mission. Not to mention actual Torah and Talmud study on lunch breaks and taking an hour break to learn Hebrew with a colleague. It’s been truly wonderful and truly magical and it’s helped me to realize that I don’t necessarily need to work in the Jewish non-profit world to make an impact in the Jewish community.
I’ve joined the Board of the Jewish Multiracial Network (you should follow us on Twitter and Facebook) and have been working hard to create lasting changes for the full inclusion of Jews of Color in Jewish communities since joining the board. It’s a mission that I’m passionate about, it’s been another part-time job (albeit unpaid) and it’s the most fulfilled that I’ve felt in a really long time. It begs the question, is it time to leave the Jewish community in this capacity?
The honest answer is that I’m not sure. There’s so much I love about it, and let’s be honest-having days off for chaggim is amazing. We’ll see and only time will tell. I’ve applied for a few awesome jobs, but I’ve left it to G-d.
Posted on: April 6, 2014
December of 2013 found me in San Diego, California this year, attending the fiftieth Biennial of the Women of Reform Judaism. Although, this was the organization’s centennial, WRJ actually began at my synagogue in 1900 as “the Sisterhood”, the name still used by most members. When I look at our official history, I find that the Sisterhood began as a ladies auxiliary. In 1900, they took on the task of selecting the furnishings for the synagogue and maintaining the new synagogue building. In later years, they did everything from comforting the sick, funding the purchase of an organ, preparing holiday synagogue meals, and sponsoring scholarships at the rabbinical college in Cincinnati. WRJ, The Sisterhood, is still the critical heart of the synagogue. They ensure that things get done. The President of each synagogue chapter is responsible for representing the chapter on the synagogue board and responsible for defining what tasks the chapter will accept.
This was my third biennial but my first as the President of my synagogue chapter. Each time that I’ve attended these national gatherings, there are more jews of color (JOC) participants than the prior time. I attended many small panel discussions where I was the only non-white woman in the room, but when I attended the group discussions with more than one hundred attendees that was never the case. Many of our blended identities were present, from Jewish and African-American, Jewish and Asian-American, Jewish and Latina, et. al. While I was there to find out how to increase membership in my own synagogue Sisterhood, I was interested to listen as the hierarchy of both the women’s organization and the Reform movement wrestled with the recognition of the diversity of Reform Judaism and jewish life in general. I see evidence of that struggle in my life in New Orleans.
For example, I sat in one seminar where the Rabbi was describing the development of the synagogue itself. The synagogue as an assembly may have begun during the Babylonian exile, but he traced the growth of synagogues as edifices to Napoleon: the creator of French identity. He turned to the Jews of France and asked: Is Judaism a religion? Or are Jews a people? If Jews were a people, then he was prepared to expel them. If they were merely Frenchmen practicing a different religion, they could stay. Very quickly, the Jews of France decided that they were practicing a religion. This was the pattern established across western Europe. According to the Rabbi, the Jews of eastern Europe were not offered this choice; they maintained their cultural definition that Jews are a people. (For example, it was not until 1997 that Russian identity papers eliminated “Jewish” as the nationality of Russian jews.) The stage was now set for the migration to the United States. The Jews of the West became Americans and adopted the practices of their new country. They built Jewish houses of worship and emulated their neighbors. They became Americans first and Jews second. The Jews of the East also became Americans, but the cultural identity of Jewish remained central to their character. (And yes—this is a vast simplification.) My synagogue was founded by western Jews, therefore, of course, a Black woman could become president of her synagogue’s women’s group. Via JMN, Jewish Multiracial Network, I know of at least two Black Rabbis, one Rabbi in training and numerous other Jews of color in the U.S.
Posted on: April 3, 2014
Patrice M. Davis was born on July 1, 1982, to Vince and Pathy Davis in Toledo, Ohio. She showed a love for art at a young age. Her parents encouraged her passion for the arts by enrolling her in the Young Artist at Work Program. Her medium was sculpting, ceramics and fine art. Ms. Davis attended Notre Dame Academy and graduated from Springfield High School. After high school she attended the University of Toledo. Her major at the University was Fine Arts. Patrice returned as a teacher to the Young Artist at Work Program and taught at the Boys and Girls Club of Toledo. As an artist she was on display at The Toledo Museum of Art and other fine art galleries around the city of Toledo.
She leaves to cherish her memory parents, Vince and Pathy Davis; sons, Jullian, Justice and Jacob Davis; sister, Erika Davis; uncle, Michael Davis Sr.; aunts, Shawana Davis; cousins, Kimberly Davis-Stewart, Tammy Davis, Vanessa Fenner, Kenny Davis, Kevin Davis, Amber Davis, Michael, Davis Jr., Gabrielle Davis, Tawaan Davis, Shane Davis, Shaquana Valentine and numerous other relatives.
The family invites you to celebrate the memory of Patrice at the Braden United Methodist Church, 4725 Dorr St, Toledo, OH 43615, from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m. on Sunday, March 9, 2014. The repast will be held from 4 p.m. to 5 p.m. at Braden. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you send a monetary contribution for her son’s scholarship funds. Checks can be made out to State Farm Insurance, 3344 Secor Rd., Suite A102 Toledo, Ohio 43606.
Posted on: March 17, 2014
On Thursday, March 6th my only sibling, my younger sister passed away. She was 31 years old. She leaves behind her three little boys, our parents and me, her big sister.
We had a memorial service for her on the Sunday directly following her death, which was inline with Jewish tradition of burial in 3 days, though it was her request to be cremated. I spent the next week with my family and have just returned to NYC where things are…difficult to say the least.
Friends have offered to sit Shivah with/for me here in NYC and I honestly don’t think I can do that, so instead I’m observing aspects of Shloshim. I will also be pausing in blogging for the rest of the Shloshim period.
I ask that you keep my family in your prayers.
Posted on: February 25, 2014
This morning I browsed the New York Times on my phone while waiting for my rather late train, “Colorblind Notion Aside, Colleges Grapple with Racial Tensions”. I read the title and was immediately angry and frustrated, I thought the term “Colorblind” went out of vogue 10 years ago.
In the news media and in popular culture, the notion persists that millennials — born after the overt racial debates and divisions that shaped their parents’ lives — are growing up in a colorblind society in which interracial friendships and marriages are commonplace and racism is largely a relic.
But interviews with dozens of students, professors and administrators at the University of Michigan and elsewhere indicate that the reality is far more complicated, and that racial tensions are playing out in new ways among young adults.
Some experts say the concept of being “postracial” can mean replicating some of the divisions and insensitivity of the past, perhaps more from ignorance than from animus. Others find offensive the idea of a society that strips away deeply personal beliefs surrounding self-identification.
When you say that you’re “color blind” what you’re really saying is that you have the ability, because of your privilege, to erase someone else’s race. News flash, you can see my black skin. You can see that brown skin of the group of guys walking down the street (which is why you walked on the other side). You notice when the person doing your nails is a different race than you. You hear people speaking in languages other than your “norm”. You know when you’re the only X-person in a group of X-people and if you’re a person of color in a Jewish space, you notice that too (and so does everyone else). The same goes for the idea of our society being “post-racial” until we live in a a society where being white is no longer the norm, we’re never going to be “post-racial“. To imply that racial tensions are playing out in “new ways” is, in my experience, completely inaccurate. Sure, I never had to sit at the back of the bus, but it doesn’t mean that racism in our society, in the year 2014, has somehow disappeared.
It’s been my experience that children are keenly aware of race and color, I’ll give you an example. A few years back I spoke at a diversity retreat at Be’chol Lashon. I held a black child, adopted from Ethiopia by two white Jewish parents, in my arms. We had an immediate and special bond and after lunch one day she took my hand into hers and examined it. She held it up with both of her little girl hands, flipped it over and examined my palms and the brown lines in them. She flipped it over again, examining my skin, stroking it in a curious, soft way before bringing her big brown eyes to mine. “Your skin is like mine,” she said to me and my heart was pulled in a million directions. I wondered if she’d be able to have open conversations about race and ethnicity with her parents. I wondered if her extended family acknowledge or ignored her skin color. I wondered how she would feel and identify as an child, a teenager, as an adult. I wondered if the Jewish community she was in would accept and nurture her or if she would feel alienated by her Jewish community because of the color of her skin.
I’ll give you another example. I’ve written about it before, but it bears repeating. When I was converting to Judaism I arrived to my conversion class early and sat on a big, leather Chesterfield sofa outside of the room we had class. Inside, the room was occupied by students who appeared to be no older than 13 years old. I read a book and sat, but one student noticed me. I noticed him noticing me because his voice became louder than the murmurs of the others. “Hey! Someone’s babysitter is outside.” I felt myself get angry when he said this, and felt like a kid again as 12 pairs of eyes turned to look at me and my heart was also pulled in a million directions. What was this kid’s perception of race? What’s his perception of people of color and how does he perceive his Jewish community. Could I ever be accepted into the Jewish community if a Jewish child only sees me as the help?
People often send me emails or leave comments on posts I write accusing me of being racist, or too sensitive or creating an exaggeration of the issues of race and racism in the Jewish community, but I ask, given those two experiences, can we honestly say that the Jewish community is immune to racial tensions or racism?
The answer to that question is no.
No one is immune- no community, no individual, no religion-we all have issues with race and racism because as a society we have placed so much value into what it is to be white (and for society at large we could argue male and Anglo-Saxon) which therefore invalidates and belittles the value of other races and ethnicities. As much as I’d like to say that the NYT article was shocking, it wasn’t. This is the world that we live in and we really have a few choices: We can live our lives appreciating, learning from, caring about and acknowledging diversity for what it is (and diversity is awesome) or we can live our lives in our own individual worlds, segregating and separating ourselves from people who are different from us. We can teach our children about inclusion and live our lives surrounded by a variety of races, religions and ethnicities or we can teach our children by example, only exposing them to people who share their race, religion and ethnic background.
As Jews, we have an obligation to take a look at our communities and make internal assessments, are we living our mission statements or are they empty words on our websites. As individuals we have the responsibility to live our truths while allowing others to live their individual truths. And as a society we have to find a way to hold on another up rather than using them to step on. That last bit seems a bit far-fetched, but my thought is that mellinnals aren’t post-racial because they see interracial marriages and have interracial friendships, but because they are more willing (or hopefully so) to speak out on bullshit and hopefully the desire to make the changes necessary in our society. Not to end on a Mr. Rogers note, but it’s all of our jobs.
Posted on: February 20, 2014
…or you’re black or brown or another non-white variant. Please don’t come if you’re a white person who is married to someone who isn’t white. Or if you wear something on your head for religious purposes, or G-d forbid, you wear something on your face for religious purposes. Please don’t speak a language other than English and I would prefer that you only read the King James version of the Bible. Best not come here if you’re Catholic or Greek Orthodox, we like our Christianity Protestant around these parts.
Have you heard? Arizona has passed the “Right To Discriminate” Bill, SB 1062, a GOP-led bill that would create a special “right” to discriminate against LGBT people on the basis of religion and while it’s aim is at LGBTQ individuals and families (or people who appear to be LGBTQ) it does a lot more damage than meets the eye. While it says that the discrimination is based on an individual’s religious freedom, that individual freedom infringes on the freedom of any individual that doesn’t meet the first individual’s idea of what is and is not appropriate for their religion.
That was one long run-on sentence.
The Bilerico Project sums it up better, “…During today’s nearly two-hour-long debate, Yarbrough took a different tack, claiming that the basic rights of LGBT people victimize anti-LGBT Christians.”
So my very existence victimizes hate-filled Christians? How is hate a Christian value?
The Bilerico Project interview continues, ” Arizona Senate Democratic Leader Anna Tovar condemned the legislation in a statement released shortly after the vote. It’s after the jump.
“SB 1062 permits discrimination under the guise of religious freedom. With the express consent of Republicans in this Legislature, many Arizonans will find themselves members of a separate and unequal class under this law because of their sexual orientation. This bill may also open the door to discriminate based on race, familial status, religion, sex, national origin, age or disability.”
I suppose this means that I can check another state off of the list of places I won’t be visiting. It’s also quite shocking how certain parts of our country seem to be moving backwards rather than forwards. 60 years ago it was okay to discriminate against black people and women and today, in some states, it would appear that the trend is back en vogue.
An update from today’s NY Times. Arizona Governor Being Pressed to Veto Bill.
Posted on: February 19, 2014
So it’s no surprise that M and I are engaged and we’re 34 which means that we’re also trying to have a baby! I’ve been blogging about it for a year under a pen name. I’m not ready to reveal that just yet, but what I am doing is working on a project called A Jewish Girl’s Guide to Life. I hope for it to be a collaborative blog with guest posts and media focused on life’s transitions through the lens of POC, Jews and the LGBTQ community. I’m looking for guest bloggers interested in sharing their gay Jewish weddings and family making, but I’ve also reached out to Christians and atheists. What I’m trying to do is create a space for sharing as well as a way to continue sharing my experiences of a black, gay, Jewish woman.
Check it out and if you’d like to write, please send an email to email@example.com
Posted on: February 18, 2014
A few minutes ago a friend shared a disturbing video on Facebook. I stopped watching MTV around Real World Hawaii, so I have no idea who Charlamagne is. This does not make me an out of touch black person.
What is out of touch, is the fact that black folks in Time Square could easily identify a picture of Tyler Perry, and yet couldn’t identify Rosa Parks, Malcom X or Condoleezza Rice (Michelle Obama, really?)
On one hand I could say that squeezing the whole of black history into a month makes for poor knowledge of … wait, that’s bullshit. Who the hell doesn’t know who Malcom X is!? I call bullshit.
Yes, it’s true that most history lessons take on a sort of crash-course mentality in February. Things that don’t necessarily go together, like the Atlantic Slave trade and Rosa Parks, are taught in back-to-back lessons, hundreds of years of history is squeezed into an hour-long class and I’m sure most kids, black and white, tend to doze off. I was that kid. Black History month was torture as one of the handfuls of black kids in my grade school and high school class. I didn’t pay attention either, but I know who Rosa Parks is.
When I got to college and could chose what I wanted to learn I chose to learn about black literature and as a result some of my favorite authors are black. It’s a sad state of affairs that black folks in NYC can identify a man who, in my opinion has done nothing good for black people in the United States except for perpetuate stereotypes of abusive, absent black men and weak women, and cannot identify a woman who’s act of defiance helped to catalyze the Civil Rights movement. Kids today can name rappers and athletes, they can recite the lyrics to songs but I wonder if they can recite Dr. King’s most famous speech. Okay, I can’t do that, but you know what I mean.
When I was a kid I asked my parents questions, specifically my mom who grew up in the segregated south. Her stories touched me in a profound way. She made difficult experiences and terrible history easier to understand. And while I’ll never fully understand what she saw or experienced, she made it make sense for my child’s mind. We read books at home about Civil Rights leaders and while being the only black kid in class came with an entirely different host of problems, I always felt a sense of pride about who I was and where I came from.
Now, it’s quite possible that this whole stunt is just that, a stunt. I’m sure, or at least I hope, that people knew the answers to these very basic questions. I’m sure those people outnumbered these folks and I’m sure those clips weren’t what the producers were looking for. If that’s the case, I’m afraid we have a bigger problem. Why is this type of humiliation amusing? Who thinks that this display of ignorance is entertaining?
What are your thoughts on this balagan?
Posted on: February 18, 2014
I wrote a guest post for Jewschool about JMN‘s Parlor Meeting.
When there were rumbles about yet another Weather Event in New York on February 6th, I got considerably more anxious than I normally would have, given that I work from home (or wherever) and don’t own a car I have to dig out. If the first ever Jewish Multi-Racial Network Parlor Meeting had been cancelled, it would have been a huge loss to everyone who attended. There’s something that happens in a room when people are being nudged around in their comfort zones, when they’re pushing themselves to think bigger and wider. It’s like an electricity. Not like. It is.
Last Wednesday, a few brave Jews made a trek to the middle of Brooklyn. I know what you’re thinking, what’s so brave about Jews in Brooklyn? They were brave not only to venture outside during an ice storm, but also because they knew they would be spending the evening talking about privilege and race in the Jewish community at The Jewish Multiracial Network (JMN) Parlor Meeting.
The conversation, moderated by JMN President, Chava Shervington and me, a JMN Board member, asked the tough question: “Am I Racist?” Attended by both white Jews and Jews of Color, in the two-hour conversation, tough topics were brought to the table. Everything from white privilege to reactions to seeing people of color in Jewish spaces was discussed and the participants asked and answered thoughtful questions while sharing individual experiences of prejudice. JMN’s Privilege Checklist was distributed and completed by participants in one exercise. Participants were also asked a series of hard questions. With their eyes closed, they were asked to raise their hands while they responded to the following statements: I have seen a person of color in my Jewish community and wondered why they were there. I have heard prejudiced things said about people of color in my Jewish community. I have said prejudiced things. I want to work for the inclusion of multiracial Jewish families and Jews of Color in the American Jewish community. As the participants answered the last question, I asked them to open their eyes and look around the room-everyone’s hand was raised.
Posted on: February 17, 2014
I’ve written about Hebrew Israelites before and while I generally think that writing about Messianic Jews and Hebrew Israelites gives these communities unnecessary press, I do have to share something that happened to me at Friday night service.
I’ve mentioned before that my beloved shul’s music director has left. It’s thrown me into another and more unexpected shul shopping frenzy, but thankfully I’ve found an independent minyan in Brooklyn that meets once a month and it’s fabulous. I’m still searching for an alternative for the other three weeks, but for now, the services at Shir HaMaalot are doing an amazing job of fueling my spiritual soul.
Last Friday was my second experience at Shir HaMaalot and like the first time there were a couple JOCs present. I remembered a topic that came up at the JMN Parlor Meeting; what happens when you notice a JOC in your shul. The other JOCs in the room talked about that slightly awkward feeling of noticing another JOC-you want to go say hi, but realize that doing so could be weird for you and the other person. So to avoid that awkward interaction, especially at a Shabbat service, I tend to greet people the exact same way: “Shabbat Shalom!” If they respond with a Shabbat Shalom and continue wishing others the same greeting I move on. If we’re waiting for kiddush to start or in the case of Shir HaMaalot, waiting for dinner to start, I’ll introduce myself in a natural way.
Which is what happened on Friday.